


Her Skin Like a Galaxy

by starfleetdicks



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetdicks/pseuds/starfleetdicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock took a step forward, catching McCoy’s chin in two fingers as the doctor tried to back away, bravado draining from him. “I do not like that accusation, Doctor. I do not believe I ever have. It is inaccurate and an ill-formed theory. I am Vulcan. We are capable of repressing emotions that you find yourself a slave to. We feel more deeply than most life-forms. We suppress and control so that we are not won over by our passions.”</p>
<p>A shore leave vignette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Skin Like a Galaxy

“The epidermis is most fascinating, Doctor. It can be likened to a system consisting of stars, stellar remnants, and dark matter,” Spock said softly, unsure of the creature’s species and the potential for sensitive hearing. He observed otherwise silently, fascinated by the collection of splotches and precise dots that covered the entirety of the dark body, the undertones of purples and deep blues striking an aesthetically pleasing contrast with the nearly neon oranges, greens, yellows, and pinks. 

In the seat directly beside him, to which Spock currently had his back to, McCoy sighed heavily. “Are you trying to pay that woman a compliment? An’ here I was under the impression that Vulcans didn’t know how to smooth talk.”

“Smooth talk,” Spock repeated slowly, turning in his seat to study McCoy’s profile and the way he took long, deep drinks from his glass of bourbon. “Could you clarify your idiom, Doctor?”

“Goddammit, Spock.” McCoy slammed his drink down and rubbed his eyes. There were dark circles collecting beneath them. 

Spock reminded himself of human frailty and the long mission that had brought them to this planet and bar. “Perhaps you should endeavor to take rest as this shore leave recommends all crew do, including senior medical staff.”

“Not interested,” McCoy grunted immediately, draining his bourbon with practiced ease. 

It was likely to be his first and only beverage of the night as Captain Kirk was, for once, taking his rest aboard the Enterprise. It had been the doctor’s idea to take Spock planetside. Spock would have been happy to remain on the Enterprise in his quarters, meditating. However, as the invitation was from the good doctor, Spock had felt it somewhat necessary to acquiesce. Their relationship seemed strained at best and, though Spock loved a good debate, he did not genuinely dislike McCoy. 

He felt himself curiously drawn to the surly human, in fact. 

“I merely meant to suggest that if you find my company further straining, I would gladly accompany you to the ship.”

McCoy’s frown deepened and he stood up quickly. “Straining,” he hissed and stalked over to the table the odd but beautiful creature sat at. 

Spock shifted in his seat to watch him, curious of his intentions. It was likely that Bones sought to take the alien women back to a hotel or the Enterprise itself. Spock knew it was a common pastime of those on leave, a way of relieving stress and forgetting oneself. The knowing of this did not settle his heart which seemed put out by the Doctor's now obvious interest in the woman. 

“Hello, darlin’, you mind if I take this seat?” McCoy drawled out in undertone to the being, still loud enough to Spock’s sensitive ears. The being flicked her eyes up to appraise the doctor. 

With a voice like violins, she welcomed him to the table and smiled. “I have never met a Terran before. I am correct, yes? That is where you are from?” Her Standard was somewhat halting but it only served to be a more endearing quality. Spock shifted in his seat, steepling his hands in front of him and continuing to watch the pair closely. He tried to project disinterest when he caught the doctor peeking back at him over his shoulder. It seemed only to rile McCoy more.

“Born an’ raised, hun,” he answered in a way that Spock was sure corresponded with a smile. 

They spoke quietly for several minutes. Small talk, Kirk had once explained to him. Spock still did not understand its function or how to correctly apply it. From what little he did understand about it, he knew it should not be causing him to experience such things as jealousy and possessiveness. Neither the doctor nor the being were his property or his lover. Even if either had been, he would not stop them from entering into small talk. There was no confirmation that this was flirtation. 

“You’ve got skin like a galaxy, Aidonna, anyone ever tell you that?”

Spock stood, walking to the table and placing his hand firmly on McCoy’s shoulder. “Doctor, I believe we are needed back on the ship. If you would accompany me?” 

Aidonna smiled at Spock and he prickled with emotion he did not wish to name, instead observing the lack of color in her irises, a shocking contrast to her skin. There was a curse, the vibration of it skittering up his arm, before his hand was knocked away. McCoy’s chair skittered and screeched as it scraped the bar floor and he shoved it roughly back into place when Spock’s gaze finally returned to him. 

“You’re so goddamn clueless,” he hissed at Spock, jabbing a finger at the center of his chest. 

They did not speak for some time afterward, nearing the transporter room of the starbase before Spock felt he could speak without McCoy reacting with strong emotionality and physical violence. “Doctor,” he began, slowing his strides so that they were not be overheard by the operator of the transporter. “I apologize if I interrupted your attempts at flirtation with that woman. It was not my intention to upset you.” 

McCoy rounded on him, jaw clenched and hands flexing at his side. Spock recalculated the odds of this confrontation ending with a fight. “It must be nice, not to feel a damn thing. You’ll never have to experience love, jealousy, or anger. It must be just peachy to be so logical all the time. You don’t have to worry about irrationally wanting to make someone react and express similar feelings to yours. You’ve got it made, being a robot! Sometimes, I honestly envy you. Other times, I get to remind myself that you’ll never really understand the lengths a man will go to for someone he loves.”

“My apologies but there is no possible way you were in love with that being. You had only just met her.” 

The doctor’s growl of frustration was startling, so much so that Spock could not effectively maneuver his body out of the way as McCoy rushed him. He was slammed into the warm metal of the hallway wall, trapped between the cold human body and it. There were many ways he could escape but none are appealing. Spock did not care for hurting McCoy and all scenarios seemed to find that a necessary step in order to regain his freedom. Instead, he stayed pressed against the wall, staring into those stormy hazel eyes. 

“I really hate you, Spock,” McCoy informed him, pressing their lips together. 

There was nothing Vulcan in the way Spock’s body surged, abandoning rational thought for base instinct to chase those lips. McCoy made a startled noise, pulling back quickly and shoving Spock away, against the wall again. On this five year mission, Spock had many opportunities to observe humans and their states of passion. As half Vulcan, he had prided himself on never quite understanding the mercurial qualities of his crew mates in such moments. McCoy stood before him, mouth agape and eyes wide, and Spock was ashamed to realize he only understood too well now. Jealousy had been won over by worry and then by arousal and now irritation. Had McCoy thought his actions would be unremarked upon? Had he imagined Spock so robotic that he would not react to a thing of purely physical demonstration such as kissing? 

Spock took a step forward, catching McCoy’s chin in two fingers as the doctor tried to back away, bravado draining from him. “I do not like that accusation, Doctor. I do not believe I ever have. It is inaccurate and an ill-formed theory. I am Vulcan. We are capable of repressing emotions that you find yourself a slave to. We feel more deeply than most life-forms. We suppress and control so that we are not won over by our passions.”

McCoy looked away from him, quelling under Spock’s lecture. From the simple contact with the doctor’s chin, Spock felt embarrassment, fear, and arousal whirling through McCoy’s surface emotions. Embarrassment was understandable from his time among humans and his mother, as was arousal. Though Spock did not take the time to examine what part of this situation was arousing. Fear, however...That emotion he did not feel so positive about invoking in McCoy. He released McCoy , sliding his fingers along the side of his face instead, rubbing the tips over the light stubble on the Terran’s face. 

“I have not undergone the purge and I am also half human, as many people are fond of reminding me. I felt as you approached the being. Jealousy is not a foreign concept to me but I find it curious that you inspire it. I do not know if it is love--” McCoy inhaled sharply at the word and hope burst along Spock’s fingers, “--but I am willing to explore the possibility.” 

As if unsure how to respond, McCoy merely fisted his hand in the front of Spock’s shirt and yanked him forward, kissing him hard and fast. It was over before Spock could properly respond and McCoy was hurrying to the transporter pad, blushing to the rounded tips of his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on tumblr user nothingbutmybones' [headcanon](http://nothingbutmybones.tumblr.com/post/51038642050/no-but-okay-this-is-how-spones-works-spirk-is) and twisted for my own amusement.


End file.
